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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708089">There Is a Light That Never Goes Out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaywardsun/pseuds/gaywardsun'>gaywardsun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:22:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaywardsun/pseuds/gaywardsun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon Snow has learned about the Mage being his father, and everything that went along with it. Since then, he has been pushing everyone away, staying locked up in his room.<br/>Baz decides to show him some love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Penelope Bunce &amp; Agatha Wellbelove, Penelope Bunce &amp; Shepard, Penelope Bunce &amp; Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce &amp; Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Simon Snow &amp; Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>There Is a Light That Never Goes Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I trace the cracks on my ceiling, counting all the places where the paint has chipped off. Every minute or so, a car will rumble by, making light and shadow dance across the walls, leaving a gentle thrumming in its wake.</p><p>And then, quiet.</p><p>I hate it like this. I hate it here. Some days, I want to crawl out of my own skin.</p><p>
  <em> And go where? </em>
</p><p>My therapist's words ring in the back of my head. Back when I still had one. Back when I still had a will to keep existing. </p><p>Now, I can barely bring myself to get out of bed. </p><p>In the beginning, I would hang on to the little things. I flew. I flew over the city lights; colourful, and twinkling beneath me, as the stars shone above. I flew over vast fields, stretching as far as the eye could see. I was fast and weightless, and I would tear the sky open and disappear inside it.</p><p>Now, my wings lay limp around me, yet another deformity in my existence.</p><p>In the beginning, I would let Baz hold me. And I would hold him back. I would kiss every part of his face, and let him tell me he loved me. Let him promise me sweet forevers as I pushed my face into his neck, and held onto him like a lifeline. I used to think I was giving to him, as much as I was taking away. </p><p>But I've only ever known how to take too much, and drain everything out of existence. All the magic I stole, my mother...</p><p><em> Merlin, my mother. </em> </p><p>I took, and I took, and I took. And I left nothing.</p><p>I can save Baz. At least I can save him now.</p><p>So when he comes to my room, I pretend to be asleep. When he calls out my name, I don't respond. When he puts the food in my room and places a tender kiss on my cheek, I don't let him see how much I need him.</p><p>****</p><p>I don't know yesterday from today, or today from tomorrow anymore. It's all stretched into one long nightmare by now. The sun stings my eyes and gives me a headache. The irony of it is not lost on me. But I still draw the curtains of my room every day to keep out the light. And every night, I open them again and try to find the stars.</p><p>There are none.</p><p>When I was 11, I stayed in a home near the countryside for a summer. I hated every moment of it. The other kids were older and meaner, and I got way too many chores. But every night, I would lay in bed, and count the stars outside, making a wish on each of them. I would fall asleep to the scent of roses blooming outside my window.</p><p>In this city, I see no stars. And the air smells like chemicals.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I hate pig blood, Agatha Wellbelove, and the void that Simon Snow is becoming-- not necessarily in that order.</p><p>Shepard has decided to continue to be a colossal roadblock, and also assumed the position of moral compass. He threw a temper tantrum fit for a 5-year-old when he found out I was living on the blood of stray cats and dogs. I would've spelled him quiet till eternity if that imbecile wasn't the magick-proof-cursed-anomaly that he is.</p><p>And I would've continued to drain strays dry as well (what other purpose do they serve, really?), if Penny hadn't sided with him. And I would have been surprised, would've laughed, and marked down the calendar for the day Penelope Bunce agreed with a Normal.</p><p>But I've seen the way she looks at him now.</p><p>So while everyone around me falls in love, and my love life (and the love of my life) slowly disintegrates, I am being forced to endure pig blood.</p><p>
  <em> Great. </em>
</p><p>As for Agatha Wellbelove. She has decided that solving the problems of her ex-boyfriend and past love interest would be the <em> perfect </em> summer activity for her to take on.</p><p>I deduced that the girl severely needed a hobby. So, I had the sheer audacity to suggest her some other past-times. Here's a list, and how it went;</p>
<ul>
<li>Swimming</li>
</ul><p>(<em> "I was trapped in a well, Basil. Water reaching up to my ears as I slowly drowned. How about you take coffin-napping as a hobby?"  </em></p><p>
  <em> "That's not an actual hobby, Wellbelove."  </em>
</p><p><em> "Shut up." </em>) </p>
<ul>
<li>A Blog</li>
</ul><p>(<em> "A blog?" </em></p><p>
  <em> "You can call it Agatha's Angsty Existence, and write about all the things that annoy you." </em>
</p><p><em> "Everything annoys me, Basil. Get out of my room." </em>)</p>
<ul>
<li>Painting.</li>
</ul><p>(<em> "Fuck off, did you just Google 'summer hobbies' or something?" </em></p><p><em> I had, but she didn't need to know that. </em>)</p>
<ul>
<li>Lacro-</li>
</ul><p>(<em> She glared at me so hard, I stopped mid-suggestion. </em>)</p><p>I'll be damned. Who knew Agatha Wellbelove could be more intimidating than Penelope Bunce.</p><p>Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that she was hung-the-fuck-up on fixing the unfixable that Simon and I had become.</p><p>****</p><p>I drive by a bakery on my way home from the University. </p><p>It was late, much later than I would usually come home. But I had this project, and the sun had set by the time I was finally finished. </p><p>I drive by that bakery every day. But something about the way it lit up in the night, the small glow-up sign at the entrance, fairy lights reflecting against the glass walls, a little kid emerging from it holding a tiny chocolate pastry. It looked like a little fantastical dollhouse, right in the middle of the city.</p><p>And right there. In the display section. <em> Scones </em>.</p><p>My heart stutters, and before I can think too much about it, I am getting out of the car and buying a dozen sour cherry scones. </p><p>I think of Simon all the way back home. (Which isn't new. I'm always thinking of him). </p><p>I think of him. And I think of how his eyes used to light up at the smallest things. </p><p>I don't know what I would do if I went home to give him the scones and he reacted with nothing. The way things are going, I don't know what I would do if he smiled at me, either.</p><p>I think of him, and I clench a fist over my chest. And for a moment, I swear I feel my heart beat.</p><p>****</p><p>When I get home Penny is in the lounge area, researching demonic curses with Shepard. </p><p>They're sitting far too close.</p><p>I quickly shower and change before I begin to plate Simon's dinner (chicken masala with boiled rice, along with the scones I bought him). </p><p>It's been the same grueling routine every day for the past two months. Simon has barely said a word, or come out of his room since he found out about the Mage (that massive fucking arsehole). </p><p>But something about today feels different. My hands shake as I lift the tray, so I put it back down. I take a seat by the counter, face in hands, as I attempt to gather my thoughts.</p><p><em> How much longer can we go on like this? How much longer can</em> <em>he?</em></p><p>I see him combust with every breath he takes. And his eyes stopped recognizing my presence long ago. </p><p><em> How much longer, Simon? </em> </p><p>You were the Chosen One. You were supposed to make it out. Alive, and smiling, and all blazing glory.</p><p>
  <em> You were supposed to end the war, when did you let the war end you? </em>
</p><p>"You do know that time isn't going to magically solve everything, right?" </p><p>For a moment, I think it's God (now does sound like the right time for a divine intervention). Then, my second thought is,<em> if that's God, he sounds a little too much like- </em></p><p>"Wellbelove, not now."</p><p>Unsurprisingly unfazed, Agatha comes over and takes a seat beside me.</p><p>"You can't actually glare your problems away, Basil," she repeats.</p><p>I glare harder. "Then what do you suggest, Wellbelove? Running away to America?"</p><p>She tsks. "You already tried that, remember? Didn't work."</p><p>
  <em> Right. </em>
</p><p>We sit beside each other in silence. Dinner momentarily forgotten. </p><p>I have to keep reminding myself that I am supposed to be annoyed by the mere presence of Agatha Wellbelove, but she's the only one Simon still speaks to, if and when he ever talks. </p><p>Maybe it's because she's the only one who doesn't treat him like a broken china doll. Doesn't tread on eggshells around him, and act like he might have a break down any second. </p><p>Maybe it's because they're both broken. Lost legends, and prophecies gone wrong. A runaway heroine, and a defeated hero. Destined to be together, but barely keeping themselves from falling apart. </p><p>Then there's me. The villain who had one job, instead he fell in love.</p><p>What a bunch we made.</p><p>"Most relationships end due to lack of communication," Agatha is looking at me, chin resting on her hands.</p><p>Nevermind, she's still annoying. I raise an eyebrow, "Did you just make that up?"</p><p>"Doesn't really matter, because at this rate, yours will."</p><p>My throat constricts, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth. I'm not sure what Simon and I have can even be called a relationship anymore. When we've strictly said less than ten words to each other over the past few weeks. </p><p>Still, the thought of this, <em> us </em>, and whatever sorry excuse of a relationship we still have left, ending inexplicably terrifies me.</p><p>"He needs you, you know." Agatha tries to meet my eyes, but I keep looking down.</p><p>"You don't know-" </p><p>"I've known him longer than you, Basil. I care about him. And about you, Merlin knows why."</p><p>I stay silent and avoid her eyes. I just want her to leave. I just want her to not be right all the fucking time.</p><p>She repeats, "He needs you, and I think we're way past pretending that you don't need him. You helped him save the world, Basil. Now help him save himself, too."</p><p>I look at her then. She smiles. </p><p>She pats me on the back and she gets up to leave. "Talk to him."</p><p>And then I am alone. Again.</p><p>A few minutes later, I pick up the tray with Simon's dinner. I head towards his room.</p><p>Usually I would just place it beside him and go. I know the way he breathes, the way his heart beats. Both awake and asleep. So it hurts too much to call out his name, knowing he can hear, and get nothing in return.</p><p>Usually, I would save myself the heartbreak. The daily, constant rejection that tears at my soul, and rips me apart.</p><p>But I know the way his lips taste against mine. I know how he feels, pressed against me, thigh to chest. Heart beating against dead heart. How do I walk away from that. How could I ever have....</p><p>Something about tonight is different, as I let myself believe that maybe he needs me as much as I need him.</p><p>So tonight, I won't leave.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I hear the door open, and I know it's him. I know the way he moves, smooth and soundless. I can feel his presence hanging in the air.</p><p>I hear the soft clink of the tray being placed on my bedside table. </p><p>Then I wait for him to leave.</p><p>And I wait.</p><p>I don't know how long he stands there. I feel his eyes burning in the back of my skull. I feel him looking at me, and looking, and looking, and looking....</p><p>I feel a hand, feather-light and careful, touch my forehead. Brushing the mass of the curls away from my face. I try my best not to squirm.</p><p>I wish he would just leave. I wish he would run away and save himself. Before I reach up to him and take him down with me. Before I tuck him into my arms and wings, and keep him with me forever.</p><p>
  <em> All I do is take. </em>
</p><p>His hand disappears from my forehead. One part of my brain is relieved, the other vehemently protests.</p><p>I think he'll leave now. But the Universe is cruel and kind, hot and cold, lovely and terrifying all rolled into one, and just a moment later, behind me, I feel the bed dip. I feel his arms around me, and his breath is hot on my neck.</p><p>He holds me against him. The angle is awkward with my wings between us, and me laying unmoving and limp.</p><p>It's perfect.</p><p>I've spent many nights alone in my bed, caught up in an infinite tug-o'-war with my fears. Some days I chased the demons, some days, they followed me.</p><p>I can't believe I used to be afraid of tangible things.</p><p>I was a boy playing pretend. Fighting dragons and chimeras with swords and unmatched magick. Now I'm a man lost at war, defeated by his own thoughts.</p><p>I'd give anything to go back now. </p><p>I can't believe I ever thought Baz was a monster. </p><p>I've seen monsters now. The ones that live in children's lores, and the ones that hide under beds. The ones that slowly put you to sleep, and the ones that keep you awake for years. Baz is none of that, he's beautiful and brave and every ounce a hero I never could be.</p><p>I've seen monsters now. And most of the ones I fight these days, look a lot like me.</p><p>I feel myself fall a little deeper, in the very pit I dig for myself every day. Every day, the sun shines a little less bright, and I feel a little less alive. </p><p>I didn't think anything could ever pull me out of this. But then I hear his voice.</p><p>"Simon, love..."</p><p>And I pounce.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>Simon Snow comes alive under my hands.</p><p>He's on top of me before I know what's happening. His hands are everywhere. They skim along my sides, my arms, my torso, my face. I barely feel them on one part of me before they've moved on to somewhere else. He pushes at my chest and grabs my shoulders. He buries his face in the crook of my neck. He noses his way along my jaw, my earlobe, my cheek, my brow.</p><p>His wings flex and unflex above us, and his tail wraps around my left foot. </p><p>His face is pressed against mine, cheek to cheek. He laces our fingers together, raising our hands and holding them against the pillow, framing my face. Our bodies align. Chest against chest, hip against hip, thigh against thigh. His feet wrap around my own. His wings fall around us like a cocoon.</p><p>He's pushing me into the mattress, pushing into me with his entire body weight. Like he's trying to mold our bodies together as one entity and not two. He pushes harder, and he's crushing me beneath him.</p><p>And I let him. </p><p>I let him take whatever he wants from me. I let him give...</p><p>I feel the air shift around us as he unlocks our fingers, his hands moving to cradle my face. I feel him relax, feel his fire simmer down to a gentle flame. He softens and stills and strokes the high of my cheek with the pad of his thumb.</p><p>There's a slight tremble to his hands as they map my face. He's never touched me like this before. No one has. He's tender and cautious and his eyes are full of wonder, wandering down, down until-</p><p>He looks at my lips. The air between us is thick and charged, and I don't dare breathe. Don't dare break this moment. I stay still, more than I ever have in my entire life. </p><p>He's looking at my lips and I think he'll kiss me now. </p><p>His eyes travel back up my face and for the first time, our eyes meet. I search them for recognition. For a sign, any sign.</p><p>
  <em> Give me something, Simon. Give us something….. </em>
</p><p>Then, something flashes across his face. It's abrupt and cold, and in one fleeting, horrible moment, I know.</p><p>The spell is broken.</p><p>****</p><p>One moment he is above me, the other he's sitting on the edge of the bed. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself. He's rocking back and forth, and I can feel him shaking.</p><p>I reach out toward him, but he flinches away from my touch. </p><p>He still won't meet my eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Give me something, Simon. Give me anything... </em>
</p><p>If I leave now, I don't think he'd ever let me back in. But I don't know how to stay either. I feel as helpless as he looks broken. </p><p>My heart breaks for him, and I wish I knew what to do. I'd spend the rest of my life giving him all that he wants, being all that he needs, telling him all that he needs to hear. I'd put him back together if it took me a lifetime to do it. </p><p>I wish I had the answers. I wish I just knew the right questions to ask.</p><p>I'll come back. I'll come back to him later. I'll come back to him every day until he lets me in again. We'll figure this out. We'll work through this together. But right now, I just need to make this better. I need to fix this mess somehow before he retreats somewhere unreachable once again. </p><p>I take my last shot as I begin to speak, "Simon, I-"</p><p>At the same time, I hear him say, "I'm in love with you."</p><p>Merlin himself couldn't keep me from him now.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>Baz is upon me in an instant. </p><p>He's holding my face as he kisses my forehead, my brows, my eyes, my cheeks. </p><p>"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..." He keeps saying it, over and over. Punctuating each word with a kiss.</p><p>He's looking at me like I'm something remarkable, and I want to throw up. I don't deserve this; don't deserve him. I have nothing to give to him, no piece of me that is whole and unbroken. I can't even give him the love he deserves, when most days I'm drowning in the hatred I feel for myself. </p><p>I want to be selfish a little longer. Let myself pretend that I am enough. That maybe we could stay like this forever. </p><p>It's been so long since someone has held me like this. Since I let someone... </p><p>But I can't do this to him any longer. I can’t let him waste his life on me when he has so much more to give.</p><p>"You don't have to do this." I softly push him away. </p><p>He looks at me, concerned as his eyes flash with hurt, and I nearly take it all back. But I look away. I have to keep going.</p><p>"You don't have to do this, Baz," I repeat. "You don't owe me anything. I'm not... I'm not right for you."</p><p>He touches my cheek, I let him. "Do you really love me?"</p><p>There's hope in his voice, and my heart breaks all over again. "That's not the point, Baz," I tell him.</p><p>"Do you love me, Simon?" He asks again, ignoring what I said.</p><p>I don't know what else to say, so I tell him the truth. </p><p>"Yes," I say, but before he can say anything else, I continue, "but that's not enough. Just loving someone isn't enough, there is nothing else I have to offer you. I'm not what you think I am. I'm a phoney, Baz. A fraud. I ended the war that I started in the first place. I drained the life out of my mother, and I murdered my father with my own hands. You have to leave, I'm not good for you. Baz, you can't..."</p><p>I feel frustrated and angry. He's not getting it. I've never been good with words before, and I don't know how to explain it to him now. How does he not understand? How does he not see me for the monster that I am?</p><p>He pushes his forehead against mine. "Baby," he says and I nearly whimper. He's holding my face in both his hands again, "You're enough. You're more than enough. It's not your fault, none of it is. I know you don't believe it yet, but it's not. You were a child, and your father was a piece of shit. You're worth so much more than he raised you to be."</p><p>I want to believe him. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. But it's not true. He's wrong, he's wrong about me, he doesn't know....</p><p>"When I was younger," I say. "I thought I would grow up to save the world."</p><p>"You did, Simon. You did."</p><p>"Baz, no-"</p><p>"So what?" Baz leans back, tipping my face and forcing me to look at him. "So fucking what? Fine, maybe you didn't save the world, or at least not everyone in it. But you can't save everyone. You can't save people when they don't wish to be saved. They have to want it too. And maybe, you'll still spend the rest of your life trying, blaming yourself for what more you could have done, could have been. And maybe, the only person you'll ever really save is yourself. And maybe that's okay."</p><p>"Baz..." I don't know what to say. I've never let myself think like that before. I was always taught to fight till my last breath. To save everyone else if it was the last thing I did. I never let myself believe I was worth saving, too. I don't know what to say, so I say his name again, "Baz."</p><p>He pushes his nose against my cheek. The action is so tender, it nearly makes me weep. </p><p>"I'm not going to leave you, Simon Snow," he murmurs. I feel his lips move against my cheek, feel his words against my skin, seeping into my soul. He goes on, "We'll do this. We'll do this together. I'll tell you I love you every day if that's what it takes you to believe me. And if you still doubt it after, I'll tell you more. Until you learn to love yourself, I'll love you enough for the both of us. Every night, I'll count the moles on your skin, and for each one, I'll give you a reason why I love you. I'll kiss each one of your tears away until you learn to laugh again. I love you, Simon, and I'm not going to leave."</p><p>He's still looking at me in wonder, like I'm something exceptional. This time, I let myself feel the love he is giving me, let myself accept it. </p><p>Something warm blooms in my chest, and it feels a lot like hope.</p><p>I look at Baz, and I see a smile play on his lips, it's cautious and beautiful, "What do you say, love." His face moves closer to mine, "Are you with me?"</p><p>I lean in and touch my lips to his.</p><p>Somewhere outside my window, a star twinkles.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/Mkaana5/status/1251565483708633088?s=19">Art by the wonderful @Mkaana5 on Twitter.</a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos are much appreciated ❤</p><p>[SONGS I LISTENED TO WHILE WRITING THIS FIC:<br/>The Archer by Taylor Swift<br/>Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars<br/>Beautiful Ghosts by Taylor Swift]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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